


Dorks in Love

by UmbraeCalamitas, WhinyWingedWinchester



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Boys In Love, Co-Written, Cussing, Dashingfrost - Freeform, Flirting, Happy Ending, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Fandral, POV Loki (Marvel), Seidr, Shapeshifting, Thor is so done, Tiny bit of Angst, Tropes Everywhere, oblivious boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-10-02 14:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbraeCalamitas/pseuds/UmbraeCalamitas, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhinyWingedWinchester/pseuds/WhinyWingedWinchester
Summary: Loki has been in love with Fandral for years but has never been able to express it, both out of fear of Fandral's rejection and Asgard's. But it weighs on him, wondering if Fandral feels the same way, for the man always winks at him, flirts with him, teases unendingly, and Loki can't tell if it's actual interest or just... Fandral.But he still fears rejection, and in a fit of what he is certain must be sheer madness, he steals Gungnir from his father's rooms and sends a letter daring Fandral the Dashing Thief to do better.Instead, Odin sets Fandral the task of capturing the thief that stole Gungnir and bringing his spear and the thief back to him.And Loki is in way over his head.





	1. The Thief of Kings!

**Author's Note:**

> Yup! Another co-write between us :D  
> This one is just fluff, sass and two dorks in love <3  
> Loki was written by the ever talented and amazing UmbraeCalamitas  
> And Fandral was written by yours truly.  
> ~Trips x

Fandral, Loki has decided, has a stupid face. He has a stupid face to go along with the rest of him, which was also stupid. Fandral the Dashing Idiot, with his stupid face that Loki did not find attractive _at all._

He looked over at the man, sitting between two gorgeous women, his grin wide and bright and… and _stupid!_

Loki covered his face with his hands and groaned. He was doomed. _Doomed._ It wasn’t bad enough that he was considered ergi for his use of seidr, but he was also attracted to his brother’s best friend. Fandral the _Dashing._ Loki wasn’t sure if the man had named himself or if the name had been coined by the many ladies he surrounded himself with, but the truth was that Fandral was a proper Aesir man and proper Aesir men didn’t think about doing things to other men that Loki occasionally thought of doing to Fandral.

Or of Fandral doing to him.

He felt his face heat at the very thought and looked at Fandral, hoping the man hadn’t seen his distraction, wouldn’t know the thoughts in Loki’s head. But Fandral wasn’t paying Loki any attention. He was saying something to one of the girls next to him that had her giving him the great big doe-eyed look that always happened right before Fandral swept them from the hall and disappeared somewhere with them.

Loki ran his hand through his hair and sighed. This needed to stop. He needed to just… stop being attracted to Fandral. Kind of like how he had stopped eating fish after that one incident with the cook in Vanaheim. He would just… not be attracted to him anymore.

Fandral turned his head suddenly, catching Loki’s gaze, and winked, with that stupid grin on his _stupid face_ and Loki felt his stomach do that swooping sound that meant he was doomed.

Absolutely doomed.

Because he didn’t know if the teasing was just Fandral being Fandral or if it meant… something else, and… and he didn’t know what to do if he didn’t know what Fandral meant.

All he knew was he was completely in love with Fandral’s big dumb face, and he was completely doomed.

* * *

Loki was staring again. And Fandral had had to quickly look away and try to remember which of the stupid girls at his side had been talking to him.

He looked back up and had to duck his head again at the look of absolute _want_ on Loki’s face. Fandral sighed. He must’ve picked a girl that Loki had his eye on.

He looked up again, and caught Loki’s eye. This time he shot him a cheeky wink, and tried to remember the names of the girls clinging to him. No doubt they were expecting an escort back to his bedchambers, but Fandral had this routine perfected.

Find pretty girl. Or girls.

Flirt, chatter and keep his reputation.

Then walk them out of the hall, or tavern, slip a pretty sparkly thing in her pocket and a whisper of seidr to help her keep the secret that he’s secretly taken.

Which, he supposed, he was.

Taken by a man who didn’t care a whit beyond friendship for him, even though Fandral had loved him - wanted to be his forever - from the very first moment they’d been introduced.

A prince, a God, and a man so far above him it was… just stupid.

And by the _Norns_ he wished Loki was stupid. But he wasn’t. He was everything that Fandral had ever wanted. He was pale, and beautiful, and talented with his seidr. He was brave and funny, and he was completely out of his reach.

Fandral looked up again and saw the weird look Loki was giving him, and sighed. He’d clearly pissed him off with one of the girls.

“C’mon then lovelies,” he grinned at them. “Shall we?”

He had a handful of moonstones and rubies in his pocket, and empty bed with a stolen tunic in it waiting for him at home.

* * *

He couldn’t go on like this. Couldn’t go on not knowing. Couldn’t just keep watching Fandral flirt with women, and then do whatever he was doing at Loki. Was it flirting? Was it just teasing? He didn’t _know!_ And he needed to know. He needed to… do something.

But what? It wasn’t like he could just walk up to Fandral and kiss him.

Well. He _could._ In fact, it would probably be incredibly satisfying and a very enjoyable experience. But if Fandral was, in fact, only teasing Loki, he could lose a very good friend over a misunderstanding. Worse, Asgard would never put up with it and Loki was… Loki was a _prince._  

He threw his hands up in the air as he paced his room. “This would be easier if I was just another thief like Fandral. I wouldn’t have to worry about the opinions of the court!”

If he was just another thief, he could come to Fandral in the darkness, cloaked in shadows and mystery, and woo him with his charms.

“Ugh, _what charms?”_ Loki demanded, and collapsed back onto his bed. “You turn into a gibbering idiot when he _looks at you._ Exactly what are you hoping to woo him with? Your cow eyes?”

He could woo people, of course. _People._ He wasn’t unattractive and he had courted before. That the courting had ended in disaster and embarrassment didn’t take away the fact that he _had_ courted Sigyn. They had just decided that they were far better off as friends.

Which was probably a good thing since Loki’s mind apparently wasn’t going to give up this whole thing where it thought Fandral was gorgeous. But… well, he _could_ woo him. Not as Loki, not as a prince. But if he was someone else. If he was just another thief, just a _shadow,_ he could woo him.

It would just require some… incentive. A challenge, maybe. A… battle to see who was the better thief, and in the end, Loki would either steal Fandral’s heart or he would steal away into the shadows, a faceless mystery and none the worse off for his trick. Simple! And brilliant, of course. He could pull this off easy.

He would just need to find the perfect thing to steal…

* * *

 The following morning, Odin All-Father sat on his throne, waiting for his eldest son to escort his friend Fandral to the throne room. In his hand, he held a note, found lying on the floor where Gungnir normally sat, in his personal quarters.

_My Dashing Shadow,_

_The staff of a king seems a worthy way to start a battle to see who is the better thief. A test of your skill, Fandral the Dashing. Can you best me?_

_Love,_

_Your Thief of Kings_

* * *

 


	2. Tight Pants and Tight Schemes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which unsubtle plots are plotted, Fandral wears his pants too tight and Loki's just done.

“I don’t understand,” Fandral said as he hurried along behind Thor, trying desperately to tame his hair into something more presentable. “Why does your father want to see  _ me _ ?” 

“I’m not sure,” Thor admitted. “He only said that something has been taken from him, and he requires the best thief in the nine realms to find it.” 

“I see,” Fandral replied slowly. “I’m not sure if I’m flattered or insulted.” 

“Isn’t that a usual state of being for you, Fandral?” His heart skipped a beat and he almost tripped on the hem of his cloak as Loki stepped out of the shadows by the door to the throne room to join them. 

“Good morning gorgeous man,” Fandral said, choosing to ignore the sass, and winked at Loki. By the Norns but he wished that flush on his face was for a reason other than disgust. Fandral flirted with everyone, that was true, but his flirting with Loki had always been different. 

Had always been  _ genuine _ . And he worried sometimes that perhaps Loki knew that. 

“Shut up, Fandral,” Loki muttered and Fandral brushed aside the familiar pang of hurt at his dismissal of his - sadly genuine - greeting. 

“Of course, my Prince. Please forgive me,” he bowed instead and straightened up to follow Thor into the throne room. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” 

He didn’t bother to look back, knowing that Loki would only be rolling his eyes at him. Their banter was familiar and expected, but Fandral felt lately like it was getting harder and harder for him to keep it from getting… too intimate. Too personal. 

It was getting harder for him to remember that Loki wasn’t  _ wrong _ like he was. 

Thor was waiting for him though, so Fandral shook the feeling off, straightened his spine and followed his friend into the throne room. 

“All-Father,” he said respectfully. “I hear you’ve need of my particular skill set?” 

“I do,” Odin said and gestured to Thor to take the piece of paper in his hands. “I received this.” 

Fandral scanned the letter over Thor’s shoulder and felt the grin spreading over his face.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Oh this sounds like fun!” 

Loki made an odd noise beside him, but Fandral paid him no mind. “Do you want me to engage, All-Father?” he asked, bouncing on his feet a little from excitement. This was exactly what he needed. A chance to travel, to  _ steal _ , to get away from Loki and be a thief again. 

“I want you, Fandral, to capture this thief and bring me both the one responsible and Gungnir.” 

Fandral nodded, shifting his stance to something less childish and sighed. 

Loki was making a weird noise behind him, and when Fandral turned his head to look, for a split second there was nothing but panic on his gorgeous face. But as quickly as he’d thought to have seen it, it was gone. 

“Is there anything else I might assist you with, All-Father?” he asked politely, as he turned back to the throne. Odin scratched at his beard a moment, and Fandral could have sworn he saw  _ mischief _ in his remaining eye. 

“Aye,” he said after a moment. “You will take Loki with you. The travels will do him good.” 

Fandral’s stomach swooped and churned, and he could only nod. 

He was absolutely, without a doubt, completely and utterly  _ doomed. _

A trip with just he and Loki? 

“O-of course, All-Father,” he said weakly. “It’d be… my honour to travel with Prince Loki.” He turned his grin back on though when he spun around to face Loki. 

“Looks like it’s just you and me for a while, huh gorgeous?” he grinned, and ignored the pained look on Loki’s face.  _ Ignore it Fandral. Shove it down.  _ “I promise I’ll be, uh, more respectful?” 

* * *

He can feel the panic in his chest manifesting on his face. Why? Why is his father sending him  _ with _ Fandral? That’s not how this is supposed to work. He’s supposed to be able to disappear for a little while and spend time as a thief and not have to worry about being caught.

“I can’t imagine I’ll be anything but a distraction,” he said, barely focusing on the words as he reworks his plan in his mind. Okay, he can do this. He can do this easy. It will just require a little finesse. He’ll need to adjust some things. He might have to be in two places at once sometimes, but he can actually manage the trick. Better still, he’s kept that particular ability under his hat, so no one knows he can duplicate himself except him. Add in a little shapeshifting and some illusion work and things will be fine.

He raised his head and flashed Fandral a grin he doesn’t feel. He could barely handle sitting in the feasting hall with the man two tables away. How was he going to handle traveling  _ alone _ with him?

_ I’m doomed. _

“I should pack then, I suppose,” he said, folding his hands at the small of his back and forcing himself to calm, to put on the mask of indifference. He isn’t worried. He isn’t stressed. He isn’t completely and utterly smitten with the thief before him. He’s fine. Perfectly fine. “Where do you want to begin your search, Fandral, so I can pack accordingly?”

 

* * *

“Ah,” Fandral paused. That was a good question, actually.  _ Damnit Loki. Damn your stupid smart brain. _ “All-Father, may I keep the letter? There’s a chance there’s residual magics or scent on it.” Odin nodded, and Fandral tucked it into his pocket. 

Loki was still staring at him, waiting for an answer, and Fandral chewed his lip. “Pack for warmer weather,” he said eventually. “The most obvious place to start will be Nidavellir and then Alfheim.” 

And his reasoning had absolutely  _ nothing _ to do with his desire to see Loki in short sleeves and thin clothing and those stupidly tight, black leggings he wore in the heat that clung  _ just so  _ to his glorious ass and when he walked - Fandral cleared his throat, and adjusted his cloak over his shoulder to hang over his own leggings. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said in a strangled voice. “There’s uh, things to take care of. Loki, I’ll collect you from your rooms shortly.” 

Fandral gave the All-Father a polite nod of his head, winked at Thor and hurried from the Throne room with his face burning and his leggings threatening the circulation of a body part he was particularly fond of. 

* * *

Thor watched both Fandral and Loki hurry away; Fandral’s barely concealed arousal plain on his face - and in his trousers - and Loki’s flushed and panicked face, and turned to his father.

“Tell me, oh mighty Odin,” he said casually. “What possible use will it be to a master thief like Fandral to have my little brother along?” 

Odin just grinned at him, and Thor couldn’t help the laughter that echoed through the throne room. 


	3. Thunderstorms and Stupid Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tropes galore!   
> A cave! A storm! An accidental sleep-hug!

At least he is accustomed to packing quickly. As often as Loki travels, he has much of his stuff tucked away in pockets of seidr so he can access it whenever he has need, from any realm. So it is simple to pull out a few sets of clothes, mostly short sleeves and the leggings that cling to his legs and help ease the heat of places like Nidavellir and Svartalfheim.

He throws in one of his warmer cloaks, just in case they take an abrupt trip somewhere colder. Then he gathers his daggers, arraying them on his person, and scouts his rooms for anything he may have forgotten.

Unfortunately, he is too efficient, and the lack of anything else to pack leaves him with time to think. How long will they be gone? How many days will he have to spend alone with Fandral? How many  _ nights?  _ How would he keep the man from realizing his attraction when they would be so near, with no other distractions save the object of their hunt,  _ which was also Loki? _

Fandral wasn’t stupid. He would find Loki out and then he would be disgusted and he would either return Loki to Asgard before continuing his mission alone, or perhaps he would just leave Loki to find his own way home.

His mind continued in that vein for some time, so it was honestly a relief when the knock came on his door.

He opened it to find his mother standing on the other side, a soft smile on her face. “I heard you were leaving on a mission,” she said, slipping into the room to hug him. “I wanted to tell you to have a safe trip.”

Loki hugged her back. “Why doesn’t Father just summon Gungnir back? It would come to his hand if he called.”

“He knows that, but he is very interested in finding who this thief is who managed to sneak into our quarters. It’s a security concern.” She smiled as she ran a hand through his hair. “I think he also might be testing Fandral to see if his talents might be utilized on a more frequent basis. It’s possible that’s why he’s sending you along.”

“Why didn’t he tell me that?” Loki asked, feeling some relief sweep over him at the words. So he’s meant to see how Fandral performs. Well, he can do that. He is disgustingly talented at watching Fandral in any capacity.

“I could not say,” Frigga said, smiling softly at him. She kissed his cheek as another knock came at the door. “I do hope you enjoy yourself, my darling.”

Loki flushed as the door opened and he saw Fandral dressed in the form-fitting thieves gear he kept in top shape. “Thank you, Mother. I’m sure Fandral and I will have a great time.” He closed his eyes. Because they were going on  _ vacation,  _ rather than a king-appointed mission.

_ Just stop talking. Stop talking and focus your attention on Fandral’s glorious ass in that armor. _

Loki let out a sigh. He was completely doomed, but at least he’d have a wonderful view on his way down.

* * *

The trip to Nidavellir was blissfully short, the Bifrost spitting them out a day and half’s travel from the main forges.

It was that trip to the forges themselves that had Fandral’s palms sweating. 

And really, it was absolutely ridiculous. He’d travelled with Loki a hundred times over. Admittedly,  _ never _ on their own, but still.

Fandral was also pretty sure that if he didn’t say something soon the entire trip was going to be spent in nothing but awkward silence.

“So, Loki,” he said and immediately cringed.  _ Could you be any more awkward, Fandral? _ “Uh, I heard that the Lady Sigyn is visiting soon. Will you and she be attending Idunn’s Festival together?”

Attending Idunn’s Festival together was as good as announcing your engagement on Asgard. Fandral had been dreaming of taking Loki for forever. But then he’d seen the weird way Loki and Sigyn were with each other and after talking to Thor some time ago, he’d worked out that Loki was trying to court her.

And Sigyn was kind of beautiful, and funny, and… well, not as smart as Fandral was but she unfortunately wasn’t an idiot either.

So Fandral was going to be left alone and forgotten while Fandral took Sigyn to the Festival and then married her and had children and moved into the Palace together and were happy and she would be the one to sleep beside him and wake beside him and…

...And he was an un-immortal Aesir thief of no royal heritage who had been stupid enough to fall in love with the Prince.

_ How, in all of the Nine Realms _ , he wondered,  _ could this possibly get any worse? _ He sighed and glanced over at Loki who had stopped walking and was staring at Fandral with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Lo?” he asked, the old nickname slipping out. It’d been years since he’d called him that, stopping on request of Loki himself after he’d called out to him in the palace while he…

_ While he was walking hand in hand with Lady Sigyn _ , his brain supplied unhelpfully.

“Sorry,” he said and scratched at his goatee. “I forgot. Are you alright though? We can’t really stop here, unless being eaten is something you’d like to experience. There’s caves -” he pointed to the traveller’s stop ahead of them “ - we’re almost there. We’ll be at the forges tomorrow. It shouldn’t take us long to find this thief,” he was trying to be a good friend, to be comforting and Loki just kept  _ staring.  _ “You’ll be home in time for her visit and the F-Festival,” he managed a weak grin, and hoped Loki had missed the way his stupid voice had wobbled on the word.

Stupid Festival. Stupid Sigyn.

Stupid Loki for not loving him back.

_ I’m not going to survive this _ , he thought to himself.

 

* * *

Loki had been ignoring the coming festival, mostly so he didn’t have to think about how he couldn’t take the person he wanted with him. Trust Fandral to remind him of it, and while bringing back that nickname. The one that made something inside Loki melt each time he heard it.    
  
His mother and Thor had various nicknames for him, but Fandral was the first person besides them who had called Loki by a name not meant to insult him. It was  _ his _ name and hearing it had always made him smile.    
  
Which, honestly, had been a problem while he was courting Sigyn. Each time Fandral called him Lo, he’d see Sigyn’s small frown and knew it was because of his reaction. Because not only could he not control his feelings for Fandral, he also couldn’t hide them. Especially not from her.    
  
He’d eventually asked Fandral to stop - it had been years since he’d heard that nickname - but it hadn’t stopped his feelings and it hadn’t stopped his inability to hide them. Sigyn had been kind when she had spoken to him of her desire to end their courting before it went any further, and she hadn’t accused him of anything, but he knew why she had ended it.    
  
_ Ergi _ , a voice in his mind whispered.  _ You can’t even love like a man. _   
  
Fandral took a step toward him, concern clear on his voice, and Loki couldn’t help the small retreating step he took back, ducking his head in shame. Thor would have accepted Fandral’s touch and been grateful. Thor was always so good at displaying just the proper affection. Not like Loki, who was attracted to the wrong people and who, despite his so-called silver tongue, could never seem to say the right thing when it mattered.    
  
“No, I... I won’t be attending the festival this year.” He planned to leave Asgard for a couple weeks around the time of the festival, take his paths to Alfheim, perhaps, or check on how Midgard had changed over the years. Get away from the temptation of the festival and Fandral stupid, beautiful face.    
  
He had to wonder why Sigyn was visiting, though. She was supposed to be on Vanaheim for a few more years, training for her apprenticeship. It seemed odd that she would return early.    
  
He shook his thoughts away and started walking again. Fandral was right. They couldn’t stop here. It wasn’t safe.    
  
He tried not to think about how he would fair better against a sól köttur attack than he would faced with sleeping next to Fandral overnight.    
  
“Come on,” he said gruffly, ducking his head so he wouldn’t have to look at those gorgeous brown eyes. “Let’s just get to the caves.”   


* * *

Fandral dragged the last of the furs from the back of the cave and beat the dust from them before moving to lay them back beside the fire. There were, of course, not enough for him to make two beds properly, but he made sure that Loki’s was piled high with the softest ones in the pile, and that he had the best blanket.

The storm outside seemed to be growing worse, and Fandral absently waved a hand at the entrance to hide it from any wandering eyes. The last thing they needed was for something unpleasant to wander in at some point in the night while they slept.

Loki shuffled about by the fire, spreading their wet things out to dry by the fire, before he sat and began to comb his hair. Fandral watched every motion he made with those clever hands, his black fingernails moving through his hair as he untangled it and wrung the water from it. His mouth went dry when Loki tipped his head forward to get at the hair along his neck, and Fandral got a perfect view of his pale chest down the vee of his tunic.

“Oh no, bad, bad Fandral,” he muttered. Loki hadn’t spoken a word to him since their uncomfortable discussion about Idunn’s Festival, and Fandral hadn’t been able to work out what he’d done wrong, but he was hoping the rabbit he’d caught and prepared for their dinner would help to soothe his ruffled feathers.

“Do you need some help, Loki?” he asked. “I have an actual comb in my bag, I could get the tangles out properly for you?”

* * *

 

The smart thing would be to say no, to keep combing his fingers through his hair and then dry it with his seidr and be done. That would be the smart thing to do.

But Loki’s brain has apparently taken a vacation, because he finds himself giving Fandral a soft smile and the words, surely they will be his  _ last words,  _ “That would be wonderful, Fandral,” come tumbling from his mouth and he is doomed. He has doomed  _ himself _ because he is a fool.

And even knowing it is the most foolish decision he could make, he doesn’t take it back as Fandral reaches into his pack and pulls out his comb. And then he is settled behind Loki and his fingers are in Loki’s hair and he thinks some sort of cosmic event might be occurring because this is the best feeling in the universe. Fandral’s hands are so gentle as they work apart each knot and Loki finds himself closing his eyes, realizes halfway through that he has begun to hum something soft and gentle. He’s sure he should be able to place the tune - he clearly  _ knows  _ it - but he cannot recall what it is from.

But then the comb trails over Loki’s scalp again and there a tingly, like lightning and snow and a gentle whisper that runs across his head and down his back and his mind loses focus. He sits and lets Fandral comb his hair, not paying any attention to the passage of time, not caring an ounce for how long they sit here. Fandral is so close behind him and his touch is wonderful and if he can have nothing else, he will have  _ this moment _ to keep in his memory.

And then Fandral is standing up, muttering that he’s done and retreating to the fire with a speed that can be nothing more than retreat and Loki is abruptly ashamed of himself. He should not have acted as he did. He knew better! He attraction is so completely  _ obvious _ and he must make Fandral terribly uncomfortable and… and he really should have known better.

He mutters a quiet thank you, running a hand down his hair, and then moves over to the fire where Fandral is plucking at the cooking rabbit to check if it is done. He’s careful to sit on the opposite side of the fire so he won’t make Fandral any more uncomfortable and presses his fingers together nervously.

He was going to take on his thief persona for the first time tonight. He knew he could do it but this would be the true test. If he could successfully be  _ someone else _ and, more importantly, if he could woo Fandral.

Loki quietly tried not to think about what he was going to do when - if,  _ if _ \- Fandral brushed him off. 

Probably something stupid. He seemed to be preternaturally good at that. 

* * *

Fandral waited until the pounding of his heart had calmed down - and the urge to not so subtly adjust his leggings - has passed before he moved from where he’d crouched to pick at the rabbit.

He had been so caught up in the feeling of having Loki so close, of combing his hair while Loki hummed and relaxed… it had all been so domestic and normal, and wonderful… 

And he knew he would treasure the memory for the rest of his life.

“It’s ready, Lo,” he said softly. “C’mon.” 

The storm was still directly over them, and Fandral used the bright flashes of lightning to check that Loki wasn’t too angry with him for having dared to let himself get so carried away. 

They ate in almost complete silence, and when they were done, Fandral sighed. “I think we should turn in,” he said. “I’ve made the beds.” He pointed to the one piled high with all the softest furs and blankets. “That’s yours.” 

His own is further from the fire, further from Loki so he won’t be tempted to ‘accidentally’ roll over into Loki’s bed during the night. 

“I’ll dampen the fire, and you can change and we’ll get some sleep.”

* * *

 

Loki frowned as he removed his armor, taking off his boots and climbing into his traveling sleep clothes. They weren’t the same as the clothes he used at home. Even if they were at a cave system specifically built for travelers and ostensibly well-protected, Loki didn’t like the idea of being caught unexpectedly with his trousers down.

Metaphorically speaking.

As he slipped into the soft cotton he had so carefully woven with his own protection magics, he looked at the two beds, very obviously unequal, and sighed.

“I’m not a prince here, Fandral.” He can’t keep the weariness out of his voice. He is so tired of being separated from people by the circumstances of his birth. Fandral didn’t act that way in the past, not unless they were in court and it was a requirement. But these past few years, the casual touches Fandral had once exhibited with him as easily as Thor had become strained. There is still the teasing, the pretend-flirting (is it pretend?), but that’s all from a distance. Sometimes, Fandral will sling an arm around his shoulder, but the closeness that the other man once had with his was gone.

He can only think that someone must have told him he couldn’t treat a prince in such a way, and Fandral stopped because he felt he had to. And his words in the court came back to Loki.  _ “I promise I’ll be, uh, more respectful?” _

Loki sighed and tucked his clothes away in his pack, brushing his still-damp hair out of his eyes. He absent-mindedly dries it with a bit of seidr and moves over to the small pile of blankets that Fandral has set aside for himself. He picks them up and carries them over near his, closer to the fire, and redistributes the blankets so the piles are more even.

And if he places Fandral’s bedding just a little closer to Loki’s than he would have if they were travelling alone, he wasn’t about to admit it to anyone.

“There,” he says, when he has completed his task. “Now neither of us will freeze to death.” He glanced at Fandral, who has a pinched look on his face, and sighs again. “I appreciate what you’re doing but… I don’t want you to treat me as a prince here, Fandral. While we’re on this… mission, I just want to be Loki. Your friend.” He presses his fingers together nervously. “All right? An-and… if you snore, I will absolutely smother you in your sleep. Fair warning.”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t snore,” Fandral sniffed, but grinned at Loki when he gave him a blank look. “I  _ don’t _ . Your brother on the other hand…” 

Loki laughed, and Fandral felt his whole face heat up. Loki had the best laugh he’d ever heard, rare as it was to hear. 

He knew his grin was goofy, sappy and probably showing too much but he couldn’t wipe it away. Not while Loki was laughing and smiling at  _ him _ . 

He waited until they were laying side by side in the pile of furs, the cave almost dark and the storm still raging outside before he spoke again. 

“I wasn’t… wasn’t treating you like a Prince, Lo,” he said softly. He bit down a groan at the nickname slipping out again. “Sorry. I know you don’t… don’t like that. Uh, Loki, I mean. I wasn’t treating you like a Prince. Just-- I-- your comfort is… is more important to me,” he manages to get out eventually. 

He’d noticed the way the beds were touching at their edges, and had frozen up. He waited for Loki to reply, but sighed when he heard Loki’s breathing steady out and assumed he’d fallen asleep. Fandral gave it just a moment more before he slowly and carefully rolled just a little. 

He paused, but Loki’s breathing was still steady and Fandral sighed in relief. 

“Asleep then,” he murmured, and carefully wiggled closer still, until he could press himself along Loki’s side and gently rested his head on Loki’s chest. “Perfect,” he said under his breath. 

Loki was warm, he was solid and he felt _so_ _fucking perfect_ beside Fandral in the bed.

This was it. He was clearly in Valhalla. 

Fandral rubbed his nose against Loki’s chest and breathed in deeply his familiar scent. 

“G’nigh’ Lo,” he mumbled, eyes slipping shut and burning with exhaustion. 

He was asleep in moments.

* * *

 

He keeps his breathing carefully even as Fandral finally falls asleep. His body feels super-heated at every point where Fandral is pressed up against him and the man’s head is resting perfectly over his heart. Loki doesn’t know how he doesn’t wake up. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, beating so loudly he thinks all the dwarves of Nidavellir can probably hear it over the storm.

“Fandral?” he whispers, but the man doesn’t react. His breathing remains steady and calm.

Gently, Loki reaches out and runs his fingers through the other man’s hair. It’s so soft and Fandral looks so peaceful and happy. Loki can feel the dopey smile on his face, but as no one else is around or awake to see it, he doesn’t feel inclined to hide it.

He runs his fingers through Fandral’s hair and thinks about the braids he would tie into his hair if he could. Braids that tell the story of how he fell in love with the man. Twined locks of hair that mark him as taken, that list him as the holder of Loki’s heart. A twist of intermingled locks tied before Iduun, a mark of marriage and forever-love.

He doesn’t know what this means, Fandral pressed up against him, his head on Loki’s chest. He knows what he  _ hopes _ it means, what he wishes it to mean.

“Am I lucky enough, Fandral?” he whispers to the man sleeping on his chest. “Am I lucky enough that I might get the thing I want most of all?”

He will have to perform a clever bit of magic here shortly, but for the moment, he closes his eyes and just enjoys the feeling of resting next to Fandral, the man sliding into place against Loki like he was born with a Fandral-shaped spot at his side.

He hopes one day it might be filled permanently.

* * *

As morning approaches, Loki calls on his seidr and crafts a cloned form of himself, physical and auditory, half of his attention focused on his second form. The clone of Loki, who could easily become the real Loki if he wanted, grabbed a bit of parchment and a quill and wrote a short note, before setting it on top of Fandral’s pack.

He vanished in a swirl of green seidr, but the note remained.

* * *

 

_ Did you sleep well, my dashing shadow? _

_ You’re getting warmer. _

_ -Thief of Kings _


	4. Babes, Boobs and One Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are unintentional pet names, "oh no only one bed!" and boobs.

“How in the  _ hell _ did they even get in here!” Fandral yelled. “It’s bullshit! Ridiculous! I set those damned barriers!” He brandished the note from the top of his pack and stomped back around to flop gracefully next to Loki on their pile of furs. 

The storm was  _ still _ raging outside, and neither particularly fancied being struck by lightning, so they’d elected to stay put for the day. Neither of them had said a word when they’d woken in a tangle of arms and legs so thorough it’d been a  _ very _ awkward few moments to disentangle.

“Loookiiii,” he whined. “How did they get in here? Who are they?” He looked back down at the note. “At least they have good taste in opponents,” he mused. “They certainly picked the best-looking thief in the realms to challenge, don’t you agree, Lo?” He grinned up at the other man and closed his eyes. 

It was frustrating him. He knew that Gungnir could be called back to Odin’s hand - everyone knew that - but still here he was with Loki, in a cave, trapped by a storm. 

_ This feels like a romance novel, _ he thought. 

Although… he rolled over onto his stomach and propped his chin up in his hands. Loki was sitting quietly at his side, the scene so casual and perfect after the way they’d woken up, Fandral had to bite his cheek to stop himself leaning up to kiss him. If it truly were a novel, he would simply kiss Loki and they’d declare their love for one another.

But this was real life. And real life sucked.

His hair was loose and wavy, shiny and perfect. Fandral could see perfectly where he’d add his marriage braid, woven with his own hair and sealed with a bead of his purest seidr in front of Idunn. 

Every year at her festival he watched couples pledge themselves before her - and every year he did so alone. Loki was either with Sigyn, or with Thor and whatever lady friend he was toting about at the time. 

Fandral would smile and flirt, but it always felt so empty and fake to do so in Idunn’s orchard. More so than it usually did. He’d dreamt so often of her giving him an Apple, naming him a god and blessing he and Loki to be together forever. 

But Loki was the Prince. He was a thief. And Asgard was not the most accepting realm in the universe.

The storm thundered on outside, and Fandral sighed. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything here though,” he said eventually. “It doesn’t feel right.” He gave the note another once over and placed his hand flat on top of it, calling his own seidr - dark blue and warm - to his fingers. “Let’s see what you’re hiding,” he muttered.

* * *

 

He was glad he had taken extra precautions to misdirect any attempts to read more into the note he had left or Fandral’s seidr would have pointed directly at him. Instead, Fandral’s seidr pulled at the note, making the ink shimmer and pulse.

The words pulled up from the page, swirling in the air, and Loki could feel Fandral’s seidr pressing at his. He hid his smirk by ducking his head as he felt the seidr flow along the path he had previously created. The letters lost their form, turning into droplets of ink in the air, and then dropping back onto the page. There was a scratching sound, like a pen on parchment, and then Fandral’s seidr faded.

Loki stepped closer, peering over his shoulder. “Where does it say we should go?” He studied the image on the page. It wasn’t a bad representation of a forest, if he did say so himself, and the tower of Alfheim’s palace in the distance was a bit too unique to be mistaken for anything else.

“That’s a clever spell,” he murmured in Fandral’s ear. “Did you create that yourself?”

* * *

 

Fandral hoped Loki missed the full-body shiver somehow. 

But honestly, whispering into his ear like that was just  _ cruel. _

And really, really hot.

But mostly cruel. 

“I, um, I did,” he said back and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.  _ Calm down, calm down, calm down!  _ “And I guess we’re off to Alfheim,” he opened his eyes and pointed at the stupid tower. “I know  you recognise that monstrosity as well as I do.”

Loki hummed in his ear, and Fandral swallowed harshly. Oh Gods. He was going to die here, in a cave, on Nivadellir. Loki was  _ killing _ him. He was a long line of burning heat against his back as he shuffled closer still to look at the map, and Fandral silently prayed to anyone listening to just let him survive this.

Alfheim though… a hot, forest dense planet with crystal-clear lakes and rivers… and home to some of the most stuck up beings in the Universe.

“Do you…” he paused as Loki shifted a little and Fandral could feel just… all of him pressed against his back.  _ Oh by the Norns, give me the strength to survive this.  _ “Loki, do you wish to leave today? We could call Heimdall or simply wait out the storm?”

* * *

 

Loki was very tempted for them to stay here another night. If he pretended to sleep again, perhaps he could enjoy Fandral resting his head over his heart once more. But they were on a mission he wasn’t certain the time limit of. It was possible if they took too long, Odin would simply call Gungnir back and be done with it. Loki needed to use what time he had for his plans, which meant staying here would be a waste of a day.

“I think we should move on. The weather in Alfheim may be better.”

They gathered their things together and rolled the blankets up, tucking them away in the storage area of the cave for the next people who came to use them.

Once they gathered all of their belongings and Loki had extinguished what remained of the fire with his seidr, both of them stepped out of the cave and into the rain. Loki held a thin shield over their heads to keep them from getting soaked as Fandral called “Heimdall, can you bring us back? We need to go to Alfheim.”

There was a moment of silence but for the rain, and then the world lit up around them as the Bifrost activated.

Loki and Fandral reappeared in front of Heimdall, both of them blinking stupidly. Heimdall gave them as amused a look as the guardian ever held. “Perhaps remember to shut your eyes next time, my prince, princethief.”

“Truly, you are the wisest of us all,” Loki said deadpan.

Heimdall gripped the sword that opened the Bifrost. “Happy hunting, gentlemen. May you both find what you seek.”

Loki saw Fandral open his mouth, probably ask the “Both?” that echoed in his own head, but then Heimdall twisted the sword and the Bifrost lit up around them. Just for a moment, he thought he saw the Gatekeeper grin and shake his head, but them the world was a rise of color around them and he was certain it had only been a trick of his mind.

Then the light faded, and they were on Alfheim.

* * *

Both. Heimdall had definitely said  _ both _ . 

What were they  _ both _ looking for? 

He was looking for a thief. A thief clever enough to get into the bedchambers of the All-Father and steal Gungnir.

What in the nine realms was Loki looking for? 

“Uh right,” he said. “Alfheim. Here we… here we are.”  _ So suave, Fandral. Woo him more.  _ He sighed. “Let’s get to the nearest town and find an inn. Then we can go from there. I’d like to check a few local haunts I know of.” 

Taverns, bars and the brothels were always the best place to slip in unseen and overhear things that shouldn’t be overheard. Information, he’d learned, was sometimes more valuable than coin. And men and women deep into their cups or basking in the afterglow with a lover, were always the most loose-lipped. 

Loki nodded and Fandral gestured to the forests around them. “There’s a road through there,” he said and nodded to the trees closest to them. “And it leads to a fairly busy town. Or,” he waved at the trees behind them. “We can go that way, which is three days on foot, to the city at the base of the tower.” He grins at Loki and bounces on his heels. “Which way will we go, babe?” 

He keeps the cocky grin on his face but screams inside. He hadn’t meant to let the stupid  _ stupid _ Midgardian endearment slip out. So he just grins and desperately hopes Loki doesn’t mention it.

But Fandral can see Loki puzzling it over, and knows the second he opens his mouth that he is absolutely, completely and utterly  _ doomed. _

 

* * *

Babe?  _ Babe? _

He’s been to Midgard within the past couple years, he knows what the term means, and he has to call up an illusion to hide his blush.

What did… what did that mean from Fandral? Was it just more teasing? Why was it so hard for Loki to read  _ him _ when he could read everyone else with ease? Why couldn’t he just know for certain what Fandral meant?

He licks his lips. Well… well maybe…

“Babe,” he says curiously, tilting his head and meeting those gorgeous brown eyes, the lies slipping easily off his silver tongue. “I haven’t heard that term before. What does it mean?”

* * *

_ Shit.  _

_ Shit shit shit shit shit  _

“It’s...uh…” Fandral licked at his lips and sighed. “It’s an endearment from Midgard,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry, it just… I don’t know. I-ignore it. Uh, let’s go… go this way.” He waved in the general direction of where the small town. At least there he can get two rooms in the tavern for the night, let Loki have his space and hopefully not hold this slip against him. He knew if he spent three days travelling in the woods with him now it would end with him desperately begging Loki to just love him back.

He didn’t wait for Loki’s response, didn’t want to hear the disgust and rejection he knew was coming. He just ducked his head to hide the flush he could feel on his face and neck and hurried off.

He’d messed up this time. There was no way to really take that back, to pretend that he’d meant something else instead. He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out the two notes the thief had left behind. 

The writing was elegant, cursive and showed that the writer was educated. Someone who knew what they were doing. Clearly skilled if they’d been able to get into the All-Fathers chambers. 

He heard Loki hurrying behind him to catch up and sighed, shoving the notes back in his pocket. 

_ This is my own personal Ragnarok, _ he thought wildly.  _ I’m going to die. Loki’s going to tear me apart. I’ve doomed myself. Shit shit shit.  _

He swallowed hard as Loki tugged on his sleeve and turned to face his doom.

* * *

 

He had this great plan. Fandral was going to turn around and Loki was going to grab his head and pull him down and kiss him until they both could hear Yggdrasil singing the world into being.

But then Fandral was turning around and Loki, utter coward that he was, flashed him a teasing grin. “Last one to town pays for dinner,  _ babe.” _

And he bolted as fast as he could through the trees, his face absolutely burning and surely as red as Thor’s cape. He was a fool. A terrible coward and a  _ fool. _

He made it to the tavern first (and if he cheated by running along Yggdrasil’s branches, he wasn’t about to admit to it). The innkeeper was a tall woman, taller even than Heimdall, with a stern, business-like demeanor and few words.

“Um… we need…” He thought about the way Fandral had curled up against him, had laid his head on Loki’s chest. How perfect it had felt. “One room please,” he said, offering the innkeeper a smile. “That just has… just one bed, right?”

He waited at the door for Fandral, practicing his grimace and disappointment, so he was ready when the thief walked up to him, panting. “Bad news,” Loki said, holding up the key the innkeeper had given him. “They only had one room left, so I guess we’re sharing.”

* * *

 

Of course they were. 

Because Fandral had clearly earned this. 

Whatever this was. This divine punishment and terrible karma and all the rest of the awful, bad things in the universe that were all conspiring against him. 

And Loki… his face was nothing but disappointment, a pained grimace twisting his stupidly kissable lips and Fandral sighed. 

“I’ll take the floor then,” he said and deftly snatched the key from Loki’s finger. “Let’s go and settle in, then we’ll see what the cesspools have to share with us.”

He didn’t wait for Loki, briefly checking the room number and then walking off, trying to project an air of calm.

He was falling to pieces inside. 

What would he do if there was nowhere on the floor for him to fit? What if once their luggage was stored there was nowhere for him to lay his bedroll? 

He swung open the room door and sighed. Closed his eyes, opened them, and looked again. 

It was  _ tiny _ . One storage chest at the end of the bed, the bed itself pushed against the wall and less than nine paces from the door to the bed. 

He wasn’t going to fit on the floor. Not a chance. Loki stepped in close behind him and propped his stupid pointy gorgeous wonderful chin on his shoulder, and Fandral shuddered at his warm breath on his ear. 

“Oh,” he said softly, and Fandral had to bite his tongue.  _ Don’t moan, don’t moan. _ “One bed.” 

_ Please, someone, strike me down now _ , Fandral prayed. But he remained standing and alive. And there was still just the one bed, one pillow and one blanket. 

“Well,” he said, trying to project confidence he didn’t feel. “Hopefully it’s just for tonight then, huh? I, uh, I…” his words were failing him with every gentle exhale on his ear, and the fact that Loki was, for some reason, pressing closer to him. “I-I-I-”  _ please just let me die  _ “-I’ll try and keep to myself this time,” he managed to wheeze out eventually. “I’ve always been a snuggler,” he laughed weakly. “Let’s unpack, okay?” 

* * *

Loki had never heard Fandral stumble over his words so much in his life. Or blush. Or look anything but completely put together and in control. But the man looked so (unfairly attractive) uncertain and out of his depth, and Loki wondered if  _ he _ was causing this. If Fandral… if he  _ liked _ Loki, maybe? If the flirting and the cuddling and  _ babe _ wasn’t just foolishness but because Fandral really  _ liked _ him.

He blushed at the thought, feeling the tips of his ears pink, and turned his back to Fandral to hide it as he pulled his sleep clothes from his bag. He had a plan, but he also didn’t want to waste the chance he had here tonight.

One of the inn’s workers brought their dinner to the room, and once Fandral had paid for it (he lost their race, after all), they ate quickly. It was just a small meal – stew and rolls – because neither of them wanted to be full or bloated if they had to run for whatever reason.

And they would, if things went as Loki hoped.

He changed into his sleep clothes once they had eaten and crawled into bed, and when Fandral mentioned checking if another room had come available since they had arrived, Loki dared to wrap his seidr around the other man’s wrist and tug him into the bed.

“I’ve already paid,” he muttered, “and we’re here. Sleep.” And he closed his eyes and let his breathing even out and waited.

He had a plan. Fandral would get a glimpse of his competitive thief tonight. But first, Fandral would sleep, and Loki would enjoy running his fingers through the other man’s hair and pretending he was braiding it in front of Iduun at the spring festival, and telling everyone on Asgard that this thief was his.

_ My thief,  _ he thinks, as sleeps tugs on him. He can rest a little while, just a bit.

And then it would be time to play.

* * *

He waited until Loki’s breaths were slow and even again before he moved. Just a fraction of an inch at a time. The bed was small and soft, but Fandral didn’t care. His goal was Loki’s chest. 

He’d passed off the caves as him being a cuddler in bed.  _ So really _ , he thought,  _ Loki shouldn’t be surprised to wake up with me ‘accidentally’ laying all over him again. _

He shifted again, and waited with his head raised just a little. But Loki’s eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted and his breathing was slow and even still. 

“So pretty,” he murmured and very gently reached one hand up to brush a stray bit of hair out of Loki’s face. When he still didn’t move or twitch, Fandral took that as a positive and shifted himself to lay with him again. He moved up a bit this time though, and tucked his nose into Loki’s neck. 

His hair had always smelled of mint, and lemon and something that Fandral couldn’t put his finger on. It was comforting, familiar and so soothing to him. Enough that the last time Loki had left, Fandral had snuck into his rooms and stolen his tunic and the half-empty bottle from his washroom before the maids got there. The tunic sat beneath his pillow and the shampoo in his washroom. He’d never use it, but looking at it there, he could sometimes pretend it was because Loki had left it there. 

But he tried not to do that too often. It was weak. Pathetic. Sad. 

He sighed and pressed in a little closer, tucked one hand beneath Loki’s waist and the other on top of his chest, fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt. 

“G’night babe,” he whispered, and closed his eyes. 

* * *

He woke sometime later in the night, his seidr tickling the edge of his mind as the moon made it to its apex. He woke to the feeling of someone pressed up against him, half-lying on him, and realized that Fandral’s arms were wrapped around him. Loki could feel his fingernails scratching lightly at the skin of his chest with his every breath, and the arm that curled around his back made his spine tingle. It was when Fandral breathed out a sigh against his throat that Loki realized the man has his nose pressed up against his skin and he had to bite back the tiny whine of pleasure at the feeling. His body didn’t have a care about hiding its pleasure, unfortunately, and Loki was just glad that Fandral wasn’t lying fully on top of him or there might have been some embarrassment.

He tried to think of something boring, something that would make his blood go somewhere less conspicuous, but Fandral murmured something and shifted, pressing his nose into the hollow beneath Loki’s ears and that whole thing about calming down went right out the window.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he hissed, but the other man didn’t move away. “Fandral? Fandral the Daaaashing?” Nothing. “Are you really asleep, my thief?” he murmurs, but Fandral only continues to breathe softly against his throat. He turns his head just enough that his cheeks brushes against Fandral’s hair and sighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

He stays like that for a while, dozing off and on, enjoying Fandral’s breaths puffing against his throat and the feel of his hand on his chest, the softness of his hair. But then his seidr pings again and he sighs. There was a purpose to all of this, and he had a plan. It was time to put it to work.

He closed his eyes and focused his magic on creating a clone of himself. He felt his seidr split, his attention split between the two versions of him. He opened his eyes to look at himself and grimaced at seeing two different versions of the same room from two different sets of eyes, and he closed both pairs. He fed more of his seidr into the clone, who wasn’t really a  _ clone _ so much as just another him. He fed more of his seidr into that version, more of his attention, until the Loki that stood in the center of the room held almost all of who he was. The Loki on the bed kept his eyes closed, let his breathing even out, and the Loki who stood in the center of the room opened his eyes in time to watch the other him slip back to sleep.

It was easier this way. There were still some things he needed to work out about being two different people at the same time. This would be good practice, though.

He focused on his seidr, though about what color he should make his hair, his eyes, and then smiled as a new thought occurred to him. Instead of creating a new face, he only altered his a little. He let his hair lengthen, let his body shift – his cheeks became a little fuller, his hips a little wider, his chest a little more generous. It wasn’t the first time he had changed into a female form, so it would be easier to move in than in a body he didn’t know.

_ Plus,  _ she thought, as she studied herself in the moon-lit mirror,  _ Fandral likes girls. _

A twist of her seidr changed her clothes from their green and black to black and gold, and just to not give the game away too soon, she changed her eyes to a honey-gold color. The black cloak fell almost to the floor, and the hood was large and a twist of seidr easily hid most of her face from view. Except for her eyes, and her mouth.

She definitely wanted Fandral to see her mouth.

She leaned over him, where he lay sleeping on top of her other-self, and ran a black-painted nail over his temple, smoothing back his hair.

“My dashing thief,” she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek. “Wakey, wakey.” A brush of her seidr called to his and she felt him come awake with the skill of a warrior prepared for battle, and leapt away, climbing onto the window ledge and summoning a passable illusion of Gungnir.

Laughing, she waggled the spear back and forth. “Looking for this, Dashing? If you want it, you have to catch me.” Then she blew him a kiss, and leapt out of the window.

* * *

 

“SON OF A BITCH!” Fandral screamed. Loki opened an eye beside him but rolled over and went back to sleep. 

Fandral left him there, and leapt out the window after the woman, following the faint trail of her seidr and perfume on the air. “Not gonna get away from me, you bitch,” he muttered. “I am the best fucking thief in the nine realms. Some jumped up little tart isn’t taking that from me!” 

She’s ahead of him, barely, but Fandral knows tricks she doesn’t. He can slip into the shadows and move through them easier than a fish through water. That was  _ his _ domain. The darkness was his and he will not let this woman take it.

He is barefoot, still clad in his sleep clothes, but his daggers and rapier are tucked into a void-pocket that he calls to him with a flicker of his fingers. Dagger in hand, Fandral leaps across another rooftop and stops. The woman has paused her flight, and sits on top of a chimney stack, Gungnir in her hands. 

“Come now, Dashing!” she called out. “Surely you can do better than  _ that _ ?” 

Fandral grinned at her. “Oh sweetheart,” he called back. “You haven’t seen  _ anything _ yet!” He waited until she was focused on him again before he jumped towards her and disappeared from sight, sinking into the shadows and moving faster than ever towards her. 

He sprang back out of the shadows and landed on the chimney stack beside her. 

“Gotcha,” he grinned, but she just smirked at him. 

“Do you now?” she purred. Fandral took a step closer, and she shifted herself about a little. The position left Gungnir held suggestively between her legs and that same smirk on her lips. 

Fandral snorted. “That won’t work on me,” he said and waved at her body. “You’re uh… not my type.” 

He took another step towards her and laughed. “Just hand it over,” he said calmly. “C’mon now.” 

“Shan’t!” she sing-songed at him, and vanished in a swirl of pink seidr. 

“REALLY!” he yelled into the night after her. “PINK?! COULD YOU BE ANY MORE CLICHE?” 

He sulked the entire way back to the room, the very first rays of the sun just starting to crest. Loki was still fast asleep in the bed, so Fandral decided to take advantage. 

He waved his seidr over himself to remove the dirt he’d picked up, and crawled carefully back into the bed with Loki. Fandral tucked himself back in beside him, pulled the blanket up around them and pushed his nose back into Loki’s neck. 

He was almost asleep again when he sighed and pushed his head up a little. 

Loki was still sleeping, his face turned towards Fandral’s. It took only a tiny push to carefully, gently, press his lips to Loki’s cheek in a chaste kiss. 

He laid back down, and closed his eyes. 

He was going to have his work cut out for him when he woke next.

* * *

 

_ Not his type?  _ What did that mean?

She sits on the edge of the bed and glares down at his stupidly pretty face. “You are a very, very frustrating man,” she grumbles, and fetches a bit of parchment and a quill from her pack. “Not my type. Is it because I might actually be a better thief than you, Mister Dashing with your stupidly dashing face and your stupidly gorgeous ass? It’s not difficult when the wards of the palace don’t react to you.”

She scribbles out a note on the parchment, trying not to get her hopes up about why she’s not his type. That  _ doesn’t _ mean he doesn’t like girls.  _ Obviously _ Fandral likes girls. He takes one or even two home at least three times a week. And his tastes vary – large, small, curly hair, straight, big-breasted or flat-chested. Hair any color of the rainbow. Loki’s even seen him with some of the visitors from Vanaheim. So  _ what was it _ that meant she wasn’t his type?

She looked down at herself and frowned. “Did I look too much like me?” But then, Fandral hadn’t been able to see much beyond her lips and her eyes, and the trailing end of her cloak.

_ Could _ he like guys as much as he liked girls? More even?

It didn’t really make sense, but… but maybe.

She let her form shift, changing from female to male with ease, but kept his hair long and curly, his eyes golden. “Would you like this form better?” He flicks his fingers, summons a bit of the pink seidr, and uses it to pin the note to Fandral’s pack.

_ My Dashing Thief, _

_ I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did last night. Maybe next time I’ll let you hold my spear. _

_ Kisses, _

_ Your Thief of Kings _

* * *

 


	5. Stupid Flouncy, Uppity Try Hards and Stupid Sexy Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fandral and Loki are both bigger twits than usual, and Fandral's foot seems to live in his mouth.

Loki glared at the pastry in front of him as though it had personally insulted him. Fandral wondered if maybe it had. 

“What’s it done to you?” he asked eventually. Loki just turned his glare on Fandral, and the thief held up his hands in surrender. “Never mind then!”

_ Stupid pink seidr using twit _ , he thought to himself as he sipped at his third coffee.

She’d left a note, of course. And she’d pinned it with that stupid pink magic and he’d not been able to even form a full sentence he’d been so angry.

“Stupid uppity, flouncy thief woman and her stupid...stupidness,” he mumbled.

Loki had finally stopped glaring at his pastry and started eating it finally, and Fandral found his eyes drawn to the way he’d eat just a tiny piece and then lick his lips, and repeat the process.

_ Stupid sexy Loki, _ he grouched to himself and then sighed.

“Right,” he said and pushed back away from the table. Loki looked up curiously and Fandral winked. “Gotta go and chase down the information about our busty thieving friend.”

“Busty?” Loki smirked. “Got a good look, did you?”

Fandral couldn’t help the eyeroll. “Honestly, Loki,” he sighed, and he would forever blame the excess of caffeine in his system for what he said next. “I don’t even  _ like _ women.”

Loki’s jaw dropped and Fandral felt like fainting. “I-I-I mean, I-I  _ do,  _ of course I  _ do _ , but I mean, I… well, I mean--”  _ shit shit shit  _ “-I uh, I was brought up in thieving circles. Travelled on different planets… y’know Sakaar and the like,” he babbled. “Uh, yup. Okay. F-finish that and um, we’ll be off.”

* * *

 

Loki stares after Fandral as he practically bolts from the room. That… that was…

What?

He knew an attempt to cover up a slip when he saw one and  _ that  _ had been an absolutely terrible attempt, followed by a retreat, and holy Niflheim’s rotting halls, Fandral liked guys.

Well… presumably he liked guys if he didn’t like women. Unless he just didn’t… feel anything for anyone. Midgard had a word for that, didn’t they? Ace, he thought it was, like one of their… card games or something.

Perhaps a trip to Midgard was in order when this was done, to refresh himself. They did have a lovely habit of constant change due to the speed of their generations. Asgard could learn a thing or two.

But that wasn’t the focus here. The focus here was that Fandral didn’t like women. Which meant, he  _ might _ like men.

Which meant he might like Loki.

_ Like  _ him.

Loki shoved the rest of the pastry in his mouth and grabbed his bag, throwing his things into it. If Fandral might like guys, then Loki  _ definitely _ needed to have him meet the male version of his thief, and maybe he could find a way to be certain. If Fandral was attracted to him, rather than  _ her,  _ then maybe…

He checked to make sure he had everything, then spun open one of his subspace pockets and dumped his and Fandral’s remaining things inside, before leaving the room and trotting down the stairs to find his thief.

Fandral would be in and out of the shadows, but Loki could wander the town and “look for information” himself. And by look, he, of course, meant pass on a little tidbit through the grapevine about a strange cloaked figure lurking about the nearby ruins.

In a busy town with shouting merchants and patrons running about, it was easy to find a listening ear attached to a flapping tongue. All he had to do then was wait.

* * *

 

_ WHY HAD HE SAID THAT.  _

Fandral’s mind was buzzing and his stomach kept clenching and he knew,  _ knew _ he’d messed up. Gotten too candid. Let slip the un-let-slippable. 

So he’d beat a hasty retreat and ducked out to the marketplace. The vendors were all yelling over top of one another and no one had given him anything useful yet. 

Until he got to the baker near the edge of town and heard him gossiping with the egg-seller about some mysterious stranger out at the ruins.

“Ruins?” he asked, and shuffled closer. Bought a sweet bun to make him more talkative. “There’s ruins?” 

“Oh, uh-huh,” the baker says. “Jus’ by them trees out there. Go through ‘bout a halfways an’ they’re there.” 

“Thank you,” Fandral said. “That was… helpful.”  _ Not.  _

He stashed the bun in his pocket and leapt lightly onto the wall, moving on quick and silent feet in the vague direction that the baker had waved his hand. 

He jumped from the wall directly into a shadow path and popped back up a few miles from the town, the ruins the baker mentioned off to his left. 

“Go vaguely that way,” he muttered. “‘Bout halfway to  _ nowhere  _ and twenty-seven miles from town give or take.” 

People sucked at giving directions. 

He grouched and grumbled as he approached the ruins and sighed at the cloaked figure lounging about on the top of them. 

“You honestly couldn’t be more of a terrible cliche if you tried, could you?” he called up to her. “Get your flouncy, uppity and hideously busty self down here so I can kick your ass you jumped-up tart!” 

* * *

Loki had to laugh at Fandral. He was so  _ offended,  _ it was hilarious. “Busty?” he called, stretching out across the top of the ruins and spinning Gungnir idly in one hand. “And really, Dashing, why should I come down there when I was here first, hm?”

He turned his head and winked at Fandral, grinning at the glare he received in return. “I did say you’d have to catch me, didn’t I? Funny, I don’t feel caught.” He affected a pout. “I thought you would be more impressive.”

* * *

 

“Why you… stupid, no-good, rotten shape-shifting SON OF A  _ BITCH _ !” Fandral yelled. “More  _ impressive?! _ Do you have any idea just  _ who _ I am?” He leapt quickly up to the ruins, and hissed when some kind of shield pushed him back. 

“Oh, and now you’re hiding behind your seidr. Honestly, you call yourself a thief? You’re an insult to the rest of us. Y’know,” he sniffed. “The ones with  _ class and real skills _ .” 

He wanted nothing more than to punch this stupid wanna-be in their teeth, but until they dropped either the shield or their attention to it for long enough, he was stuck. 

_ Taunting it is then, _ he thought and grinned. 

“You know,” he leaned back against the pillar at his back and crossed his arms. “I’m sure there are plenty of  _ other,  _ more… entertaining ways we could spend the time we have together, isn’t there? I could show you a thing or two. I’m travelling with a crown prince of Asgard,” he flicked his fingers and idly examined his nails. “I’m almost positive he’s got a trinket or two stashed away. What say you to a little trade? It doesn’t have to be your spear, not yet.” 

He grinned up at the wanna-be and winked. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” 

_ Let me see what you’ve got, you trickster. There’s no way you’re a thief. _

* * *

 

“Oh, are you trying to bribe your way into my pockets, Dashing?” Loki teased, but inside, he was practically cheering. Fandral  _ did _ like guys. He hadn’t acted this way at all toward his female form.

He spun the spear in his hand and it disappeared in a flare of pink seidr as he rolled over onto his stomach and kicked his feet up behind him. “It’s adorable you think your prince has anything to offer that I would be interested in. My little love note was for you, gorgeous.”

He flicked his fingers and disappeared his cloak before he laid his head on his arms and giving Fandral a teasing smile. “Like what you see? I know I do.”

* * *

 

Who the  _ hell _ did this little upstart think he was? Fandral was gearing himself to interrupt, to do something when the cocky little bastard removed his hood and all Fandral’s words - and brain cells - shrivelled up and died. 

How dare he be so…  _ so.  _ Long, curly black hair tumbled about his shoulders and his stupid, pretty eyes were the same colour as the honey that Fandral had put in his coffee that morning. He had tanned skin and that stupid, horrible smirk on those stupid lips. 

_ Rude _ . 

Fandral cleared his throat and looked away, willing his blush to disappear. “I’ve seen better,” he said as nonchalantly as he could manage. And, as he snuck another look at the man as he waggled his feet and licked at his lips, Fandral  _ had.  _ This man was gorgeous, no lie, but he’d been in love with pale, dark and green for his whole life. 

“You’re missing my favourite colour,” he grinned. “But sure. You’re pretty enough. So then, beautiful,” he shifted his weight and cocked his head. “Wanna tell me what’s up with the sudden contest of thieves you’ve started?”  

* * *

 

It was a damn good thing Loki was good at illusions because the look Fandral was giving him had his face burning like the sun. Clearly,  _ clearly,  _ he had made a proper decision somewhere, even if he  _ was _ missing Fandral’s favorite color, whatever the fuck that meant.

He rolled easily into a sitting position, perhaps putting more suggestivity into his movements than was truly required, and settled cross-legged on the stone. A swirl of his seidr, painted pink, called a facsimile of Gungnir to him and watched Fandral with amusement as he trailed his fingers up and down the shaft of the spear.

“Curiosity,” he said, and licked his lips slowly. “Words travels and I’ve heard things. They say you’re the best thief in all the realms, stealing trinkets… and hearts. Perhaps I’m… interested.” He settled the spear against the stone and leaned his head against it, a smile teasing at his lips. “Perhaps I’m just impressed enough to want to wonder… what is such a good thief is doing hanging around Asgard when he could steal a crown and kingdom of his own? You could be the King of Thieves, Dashing, and yet… you serve someone else. I am so very curious.”

* * *

 

“I serve them because I choose to,” he said. “They took me in on Asgard when anywhere else would have taken my hands or my head.” He sighed and looked down at his boots, scuffing them in the dust on top of the stone. 

How much did he share? How much was enough to gain this thief’s trust so he could steal the spear back? 

“I was… stolen myself, as a child,” he said eventually, deciding on some of the truth. “And I wound up on Asgard following orders, and the Crown Prince, Thor, found me with my leg badly broken. And he… let me stay.” Fandral licked at his lips, and stared back up at the thief from under his lashes. “And there’s someone that means more to me than anyone else, anywhere in the universe, on Asgard. And they… they stole my heart from my chest,” he grins and looks back down. 

“So… for now, I stay. At least until-- until they marry and move on,” he finished quietly. “So. Now you know  _ my _ story.” He moved to sit down and look up at the thief still lounging above him. “Now, equivalent exchange, handsome. You owe me. Why are you  _ really _ doing this?”

* * *

 

Loki stared at Fandral for a long moment. He had known that Thor had met the man when he was injured, but he hadn’t been present for the fullness of the tale. And he certainly hadn’t known Fandral had been stolen as a child. That was…

He rather thought he’d like to find who did it and break all of their fingers, for making Fandral’s voice sound so very sad.

But… his story. He hadn’t really thought of a story for his thief beyond playing a merry game of thieving. He settled the spear across his legs but didn’t drop his shields. Fandral might be talking nicely now, but Loki knew him well enough to know that he would take any opening offered him without hesitation. He had to be on his guard.

“Well, see… I admit I found myself somewhat attracted to this dashing thief and his quick fingers, but if your heart is already taken, then I do think I might be too late…” He licked his lips nervously. He couldn’t be sure but… but maybe…

“I will make you a deal, Fandral the Dashing Thief,” he said, heart hammering in his chest. “I will give you Gungnir if you give me the name of the thief who stole your heart.”

* * *

That… was not what he was expecting.

“Th-the thief… who stole my heart?” he repeats weakly, and the thief nodded. “Of course,” he mumbled. He can’t say Loki, can’t risk it getting back to him. But he can use someone else, can sell his embarrassment and awkwardness off with a different name. 

He cleared his throat and stood back up. “And you give me your word on this? That if I reveal this to you, you will give me the spear?” Another nod, and Fandral sighed. Ducked his head a little and did his best to look shy and embarrassed. 

He licked his lips and spoke. 

“Her name is Sif. She’s a brave warrior on Asgard, someone who’s been unfailingly kind to me, and always encouraged me. She’s… perfect,” he finished on a whisper, gut churning with the lie and his cheeks burning. 

Sif was so absolutely Loki’s opposite that there was no way he’d ever be exposed now. 

“Now,” he said louder. “Gungnir. A deal is a deal, even among thieves. Hand it over, gorgeous.” 

* * *

It’s like being kicked in the chest by a horse. Or perhaps having a rug yanked out from beneath you and then falling into a pit you hadn’t known was there. It  _ hurts.  _ It hurts, but he should have known better than to get his hopes up. Should have known better than to think Fandral could ever love  _ him. _

 

He vanishes the illusion of the spear with a wave of his hand and stands, the smile gone from his lips. He cannot even dredge up a false one for this false face. He simply wants to go. He wants to be gone. He wants to go back to Asgard and be done with this farce. It was a foolish plan anyway.

“You’ll find the spear on Vanaheim, in the forests of the Merkt Vatn tribe.” He calls his seidr up, suddenly hating the cheerful pink color of it with a passion. “A suggestion, thief,” he says, looking at Fandral. “Tell her. Don’t make her wonder or hurt for not knowing.” He feels the flush of tears to his eyes. “It’s cruel.”

He wraps himself in seidr and leaps upon a branch of Yggdrasil as the tears fall. He was foolish. He was a stupid heartsick fool and he never should have hoped. He never should have started this ruse in the first place and now he just wants to go home. He doesn’t want to be around Fandral a moment longer. It hurts too much.

“So stupid,” he whispers, as he wipes his eyes and sits down on a branch between worlds. “Why did you ever think he could’ve loved someone like you.”

* * *

 

“Um,” Fandral said stupidly. “What?” 

If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought the thief to be… hurt. Like, badly hurt, over his admission of feelings for… for  _ Sif.  _

_ Who was going to flay him alive for using her.  _

Fandral groaned and slipped his shadows back to the tavern where they’d been staying, only to be told by the innkeep that Loki had checked them out. 

“Great,” he sighed, and moved out into the marketplace. “And where in the realms are  _ you _ then, Loki?” he muttered. 

Moving amongst the crowds was frustrating, hot and tedious. There was no sign of Loki anywhere, and the day was wearing on. Fandral checked every inn, every store and even the brothel, but Loki had just… disappeared. 

Fandral chewed anxiously on his bottom lip as he lingered at the city gate. Had something happened to him? Was he hurt somewhere and in need of aid? 

“Where  _ are _ you, Lo?” He swung his eyes over the crowd one last time, but couldn’t spot the familiar black waves or the green of Loki’s cloak anywhere. 

He sighed and slid down the wall to sit on the ground, wrapping his own blue cloak about him. One way or another, Loki would have to come  _ here _ to leave the city. Fandral just hoped he was awake when he did.

* * *

 

 


	6. Starring Fandral the Twit, and Loki the Incredible Sulk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which all of Asgard is over it and takes matters into their own hands

He lingers on Yggdrasil’s branches for more than half the day, crying like a child and, at one point, waking to find leaves being dumped on his head like someone might throw a pail of water on a drunk tennant. He wipes his eyes and looks at Yggdrasil’s branches, churning with angry colors, and knows he can’t stay any longer.

“All right,” he says softly, pushing himself to his feet and scrubbing at his face with his seidr to clear the evidence of tears. “Take me to wherever he is, then. I want to go home.”

The branches shift and when Loki steps out, he finds himself standing next to Fandral, who is sitting against a wall, wrapped in his cloak and asleep. In the middle of the fucking town!

“Are you mad?” he hisses, dropping into a crouch and grabbing Fandral’s shoulders. “You could’ve been attacked sitting out here with your wits clearly back where you disappeared off to. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Fandral has the gall to glare at him. “Well, someone checked us out of our rooms and you weren’t anywhere to be found. Where have you been?”

Loki grimaced. “I got lost,” he grumbled, pulling away from Fandral and rising to his feet. “The people around here give terrible directions.” He turns away from Fandral and crosses his arms over his chest. “Did you learn anything while you were off chasing shadows?”

* * *

“I learned enough,” he said and frowned at Loki. “Why’d you check us out?” When Loki didn’t reply he just sighed.

“The thief was a shape-shifting son-of-a-bitch,” he grumbled and lurched to his feet. His impromptu nap hadn’t done his neck any favours, and he rolled it with a pained groan. “Damn that hurts.”

Loki was still not looking at him, and had started stalking off down the road, away from the city. Fandral rolled his eyes and hurried to catch up.

“They made me… confess something, and then disappeared,” he mumbled. “It was weird. But they’ve left Gungnir on Vanaheim, in the forests of the Merkt Vatn tribe,” he said and glanced over at Loki, who had wrapped both his arms around his waist and still refused to look at Fandral.

Fandral frowned and bit at his lip. Had something happened to him after all? Was he hurt somewhere and hiding it?

Had Fandral done something?

_ Oh no, _ he thought and felt his stomach sink to his feet. Had Loki decided he was disgusted with Fandral’s accidental confession that morning?

_ I’ve messed it all up, _ he sighed to himself. But he turned to Loki anyway, and carefully rested a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stop his frantic pacing and face him.

“Hey, Lo? Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

* * *

“M’fine,” Loki mumbled. “I think the pastries were had for breakfast were off.”

His stomach hurt all right, but for an entirely different reason. He knew he should take better care to hide his feelings, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care at this point. He had thought… he had so hoped, but he’d turned out wrong. So wrong. And now he just wanted to go home.

He wished he hadn’t left Gungnir on Vanaheim, but he hadn’t wanted to risk carrying it with him. He should have kept it closer, or in one of his subspace pockets, instead of stashing it away. Then he could just drop it off somewhere and they could leave, instead of going to stupid Vanaheim.

“I have all of our stuff,” he muttered. “Let’s just call Heimdall and go. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

* * *

 

Fandral stared at Loki. What had happened to him? He’d eaten those pastries too, and he was fine, but he didn’t bring it up. 

 

“Alright, Lo--Loki,” he caught the nickname before it stuck and sighed. “Call him. I’ll go with you back to Asgard and then fetch Gungnir alone. You just rest off the stomach pains, maybe visit Eir and have her check you over.” 

He drops his hand from Loki’s shoulder, and takes an awkward step back.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Loki was heartbroken. He licked at his lips and shuffled uncomfortably as Loki called Heimdall. The Bifrost flashed and burned around them and then they were stumbling out into the observatory.

Fandral had barely gotten his feet back beneath him when Loki was throwing his things at his feet and hurrying away.

“Oh,” he said sadly, and blinked back a sudden rush of hot tears. He cleared his throat. “Um, Heimdall. Could you send me to Vanaheim, please, I’ve found Gungnir.”

The Gatekeeper shook his head. “See the All-Father first,” he rumbled.

_ Of course, _ Fandral sighed to himself, and picked his things up from the floor, walking slowly after Loki’s distant form.

* * *

He spins around a corner and runs full-tilt into someone, stumbling as hands come up to his shoulders. He shoves them away, retreating to try and hide the fact that he’s been crying. He’d barely made it ten steps from Fandral before the tears had started.

“Loki?” Frigga asks, and he looks up to see his mother’s concerned face, and that’s all it takes to bring the tears forward again. He buries his head in her chest as he starts to sob and feels her arms come up around him. “Oh sweetheart,” she murmurs, but Loki can’t say anything back. His heart hurts too much. The man he loves is in love with someone else and he’s a fool, a stupid fool whose heart belongs to a man who doesn’t want it.

Frigga guides him gently out of the hall and away from prying eyes and he follows willingly, letting her guide him into her lap as she settles into a chair and just letting himself cry. Maybe he’ll go away for a while, take a trip to Midgard and spend a few months among the mortals and try to fix his stupid heart - make it work right so it doesn’t love wrong.

He sobs into his mother’s chest and knows it’s a futile thought. He’s never going to love anyone else. Fandral will marry Sif and have lots of adorable babies and Loki will have to stand there on the sidelines and pretend to be happy for them, because Fandral will be happy and that should be enough.

But he doesn’t have to be happy  _ yet.  _ Right now all he wants to do is cry out all of his heartache so it will stop hurting, and later he will pack his things and go to Midgard.

He doesn’t want to be on Asgard anymore. He doesn’t want to be where Fandral is and Loki has to see him. At least not until he stops feeling like his thief has stabbed him in the chest. He wonders if it will ever stop.

* * *

He lost sight of Loki as soon as they entered the Palace, and sighed as he dragged his feet to the throne room. Whatever that had been with Loki had really confused him… and it made him hurt too, like he’d really messed something up.

He just didn’t know  _ what. _

_ What  _ had he done to make Loki hurt like that?

Had it been his confession? The way he had slept all over him like a… like a bitch in heat? Fandral stopped and groaned, scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to pull himself together. 

This wasn’t helping. Not a bit.

“Get your shit together, Fandral,” he muttered to himself. “You haven’t failed yet.”

Except.. He was pretty sure he had. He wondered if Odin was even going to let him go to Vanaheim or if he’d just banish him for being useless, ergi and not right. Not right for Asgard, not right to be friends with Thor.

_ Oh fuck,  _ Fandral’s insides froze and he had to clamp a hand over his mouth so he didn’t vomit on the marble floor. “Heimdall,” he breathed. What if the Gatekeeper had seen how much he loved Loki? Had seen the way he’d acted towards the Prince while they’d travelled? Had he told Odin? Told  _ Frigga and Thor? _

Was Fandral walking to the throne room to be stripped of his status as Aesir and thrown in the dungeons? Or worse… banished and shamed from Asgard?

“What’ve I  _ done _ ?” Fandral felt the room spinning around him and sat heavily where he was in the middle of the hall. His legs were jelly beneath him and he couldn’t focus, couldn’t make his breathing slow down. He’d done something unforgivable. He’d taken liberties with the Prince.  _ His _ Prince. It didn’t matter that he loved Loki more than anything or anyone else - more than he would  _ ever  _ love another - because Loki was above him. Was a God. A prince.

“I’m going to die,” he wheezed. “I’m dead.”

* * *

“You look it,” Sif said, and watched as Fandral spun around and nearly went sprawling. “Fandral, if you vomit on the palace floors, you  _ will _ be having words with someone, but it will probably be Eir. Do you want that?”

She stalked forward, grabbing the boy by the arm and helping him to his feet. He swayed alarmingly and she held onto him, hoping he wasn’t going to pass out. “You are pale as a cloud, Fandral. What’s wrong?”

Fandral only shook his head, looking mortified and faint. Sif pulled one of his arms over her shoulders and started walking him down the hall. “I’m taking you to Eir.”

“Need to see the All-Father,” Fandral said, and Sif snorted.

“Why? So you can puke on his boots?” She shook her head. “We’re going to Eir and you’re going to at least drink some of that bitter as fuck tea she has to calm down, or I’ll get Thor and he’ll  _ sit on you _ until you tell him what’s wrong. So which is it?”

* * *

“I’ve fucked up, Sif,” he said as she dragged him away to Eir’s rooms. “I did the worst thing. And now I’m the worst person. He hates me. I hate me.” 

Sif just sighed and rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Fandral,” she muttered. “You’ve not done anything that bad I’m sure.”

“Sif,” he whispered. “I told the thief I loved  _ you _ .”

She stopped dead in the middle of the hall. “You what.”

He nodded. “I spent the whole trip with Loki in my arms at night and it was perfect and I love him  _ so much _ and then the thief had a thing for me and then they wanted to know who I loved cause I said I loved someone and I panicked and--” Sif smacks a hand roughly over his mouth. He thought that was a good idea. He was babbling.

“You absolute  _ fucking moron _ ,” she hissed, and he nodded helplessly behind her hand. He knew. He was the worst. The most terrible. He deserved his imminent death.

“Okay,” she muttered. “Eir first. Then I need to gather my troops. This needs to end.”

Fandral just nodded, having no idea what she was on about, and let her drag him down to Eir’s rooms, where the healer poured disgusting tea down his throat and made him sleep.

He let sleep take him gladly.

* * *

Sif rolled her eyes as Fandral  _ finally _ shut up and fell asleep and turned around, marching out of the healing rooms and back down the hall. Honestly, this had gone on  _ long enough,  _ and then Loki had decided to finally  _ do something,  _ and what did both idiots do? They screwed it up. Why? Because they were idiots.

This was why Sif had to go everywhere with these dumb boys. If she didn’t, they’d do something stupid and get themselves killed, or married to a giant. Granted, the one who had gotten himself married to a giant was probably the least stupid of all of them. Not that he’d let that be known.

Sif sighed as she made her way to the royal wing and pounded on Thor’s door. “Oh Prince Thor, the heartsick lovers of Asgard have returned from their mission.”

The door swung open abruptly, Thor standing there half-dressed, with an anxious look on his face. “And?”

“And what do you  _ think _ ? They’re idiots! Let me in.” She shoved past him and threw herself down into a chair in his receiving room. “We need to put a stop to this before all the unresolved sexual tension kills me.”

Thor shuts the door and goes back to whatever he’s been doing that’s left him half-dressed as Sif continues to plan out loud. “Honestly, I thought they were finally going to work things out. Loki apparently showed himself to Fandral as a thief - a shapeshift or illusion of some kind, no doubt - and actually asked Fandral who it was he was attracted to? And what does the idiot do? Ask me, Thor.  _ Ask me what he did.” _

“What did Fandral do?”

“He told  _ Loki _ he was in love with  _ me.”  _ She flops back in her chair. “If I wasn’t so disgusted with their stupidity, I’d kill them both.” She covered her face with her hands. “Tell me we can fix this, Thor, or I may simply lock them in a room together until they starve to death or admit their feelings. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Are the dungeons free?”

* * *

Thor stared at her.

“You’re kidding me,” he said in disbelief. “He… he  _ what? _ ”

Sif just nodded and Thor sat down on his bed, shirt forgotten in his hands. He’d been re-dressing after sparring but putting his shirt on seemed unimportant now.

He sighed and fell backwards onto his bed with a groan. “Okay,” he said. “We can fix this.” When Sif scoffed he sat back up. “No, really. We  _ can _ .”

“And how do we do that, huh?”

Thor grinned at her. “We’re going to steal something.”

* * *

“And that’s the plan,” Thor said a short while later. Idunn, his parents, Eir, Sif and their friends were gathered around him, but it was Heimdall who spoke.

“This has indeed gone on long enough,” he said, and nodded at Thor. “You may steal my sword.”

“Excellent,” Thor said with a grin. “That’ll be big enough to get both of their attention. Lady Idunn?”

“I will place it in my orchard,” she said quietly, but returned Sif’s smirk. “The Apple will bind them and force them to speak their truths.”

“Finally,” Frigga sighed and Odin patted her hand gently. “We thought for sure that this was it!”

“Aye,” Odin agreed. “I even sent them away this time.”

The group all sighed as one, and then stood to head out to put their plan into motion.

“My Festival,” Idunn said as she paused at the doorway. “Thor, it would be simply  _ awful _ if there was a need for a mighty storm the night we have planned.” He looked at her and she winked. “Heimdall has no doubt seen the need for the storm on that particular date. Therefore, we shall hold my Festival this weekend.” She flicked her hair back over her shoulder and shook her head. “I can’t take another week of this,” she confessed.

“The blacksmiths require the storm,” Heimdall said slowly. “It is needed on that night because the moon is in position to bless their waters.”

“Perfect,” Frigga said and stood. “I can’t take it anymore either. They have loved each other for centuries. This is ridiculous.”

* * *

 


	7. Words are hard, and feelings suck - but sentient trees are the worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the worlds flimsiest plan comes together somehow, and there's an irritable sentient tree.

What.  
  
“That is why I have called you both here today,” Odin finishes from where he sits on the throne before them. “The thief has stolen Heimdall’s sword this time and we cannot activate the Bifrost without it. I need you both to find this thief, retrieve the Gatekeeper’s sword, and put a stop to this nonsense.”  
  
“And the thief left another note?” Fandral asks beside him. Loki has to strangle the noise of fury in his throat.  
  
“I have it here.” Odin hands it to Fandral but Loki glimpses the words, written in almost perfect mimicry of the previous notes.  
  
_My dashing shadow,_  
  
_Don’t keep me waiting._  
  
_Your thief of Kings_  
  
WHAT.  
  
“I trust you will both perform this task for me?”  
  
“Yes, All-Father,” Fandral says, and Loki echoes him.  
  
Who the fuck had taken Heimdall’s sword? Because the previous thief had been Loki and there was no fucking way he would have done this - he wasn’t stupid! And he _hadn’t_  done this. But someone was using his ruse - using his _name_  - to steal things.  
  
Loki ground his teeth. When he found out who had done this, he was going to turn them into a toad if he had to do it limb by limb.  
  
He forced himself to calm down enough he could speak clearly and turned to Fandral. “Where do we begin?”

* * *

Fandral blinked down at the note, and then up at Loki. He could see the uncomfortable, almost pained look, on the Prince’s face and sighed.

Oh yeah. This was going to just be the best fucking fun of his life. He stared at the note again, desperate to avoid Loki’s furious eyes and bit at his lip.

There had to be a clue here, something he could use. He traced his seidr over the paper, seeking out a clue as to who had written the note, pleased when it lit up in one corner.

“It’s… it’s here,” he mumbled. “But that’s not right, surely.”

“Well?” Loki demanded, and Fandral looked up at him in surprise.

“I think it’s in Idunn’s Orchard,” he said slowly. “But… I’m not sure. But it could be worth looking there at least, to begin with?”

* * *

“Why would they steal it from the Observatory just to leave it in Idunn’s Orchard?” Fandral shrugged and Loki sighed. “Let’s just go look.” 

  
Maybe they could get this over with soon. If the sword was in Idunn’s orchard, then the thief probably got themselves trapped trying to steal an apple. They could finish this up, toss this thief in front of Odin, and Loki could gather his things and leave for Midgard. He might even be gone by the feast, so he wouldn’t have to watch Fandral throw himself all over a bunch of girls. Or worse, finally tell Sif what he felt and ask her to the festival. Loki wasn’t sure his poor, stupid heart could handle seeing that.  
  
He turned and started walking for the orchard, not waiting for Fandral. The other man would catch up. This was his job, after all. Loki was just along because the Norns could be cruel.  
  
With the festival having been moved up to the next day, due to some dumb storm Thor couldn’t tell to fuck off because of full moons and blacksmiths and stupid shitty timing, the orchard was already decked out in paper lanterns and streamers and lights. Everything was done in tones of gold and white and Loki hated all of it. He hated every single inch of it.  
  
“This is so fucking stupid,” he hissed, as they moved through the orchard. “Where are we going?”

* * *

 

Fandral sighed and rubbed tiredly at his face. “Yeah, it’s fucking dumb,” he agreed.

“I said stupid,” Loki hissed and Fandral had to bite down on another sigh.

“That too,” he said and swung sharply to the left, Loki scrambling to keep up. The orchard looked amazing lit by nothing but the lanterns that hung in the trees and the little floating seidr lights. “This is beautiful,” he whispered as he walked past the Binding Tree. It was decked out in strings of glittering gold and silver, red and pink crystals hanging from it all over - one for every couple bound before Idunn.

Loki scoffed quietly behind him, and Fandral turned to glare at him. “I’ve got no idea what the hell is wrong with you,” he growled, “but it ends now, or I will do this on my own! I’m not in the mood to deal with a prissy prince having a bitch fit!”

He spun on his heel and stomped down the next row, huffing in triumph when he spotted Heimdall’s sword glinting innocently at the end. “Thank _fuck_ for that,” he muttered.

* * *

Loki glared after Fandral. “I’m not prissy!” he hissed, but he followed behind the man to the tree where Heimdall’s sword had been stuck into the ground. It was at the end of a long row of trees, just off the path, and Loki sighed in frustration. 

  
“Where is the thief?” he spat, scanning the trees. There wasn’t another person in sight and he scowled. “Why would they just leave the sword here?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Fandral said slowly. He was looking around too, probably trying to spot the person he thought was the thief. Wouldn’t he be surprised if they actually showed up. Loki hoped they did.  
  
“This doesn’t seem right,” Fandral said softly.  
  
Loki growled. “Who cares?” He stomped over to the sword, ignoring whatever it was Fandral was saying as he reached for the hilt of the blade. He just wanted to be done with this stupid charade and leave before he had to watch any sappy couples be lovey-dovey in front of Idunn.  
  
“Don’t!” Fandral said as his hands closed around the hilt. “It’s a trap!”  
  
But it was too late. The moment his fingers touched the hilt, the tree they stood up lit up with the golden magic of Idunn’s seidr which fed into their roots, and the bark of the tree began to shift as lines of seidr rolled down around them like bars of a cage. Loki yanked his hand away from the blade and tried to leap onto a branch of Yggdrasil, but the door wouldn’t open for him. He was trapped.    
  
They were both trapped.  
  
“Oh come on!” he yelled, kicking the trunk of the tree. “It’s not an apple! It doesn’t even belong here!”  
  
The gnarled knots in the tree seemed to flicker, the bark stretch and wiggle, and then two eyes opened in the massive trunk, and the bark opened to reveal a mouth, and the tree glared them both.  
  
“Thieves!” it groaned in a deep voice. “Thieves!”  
  
“You senile hunk of firewood!” Loki spat and smacked the hilt of the blade. “Does this look like an apple to you? We’re not fucking thieves!”  
  
“Thieves and liars!” the tree grumbled and Loki grabbed his hair in frustration and pulled.  
  
“I hate this!” he yelled, tears flushing to his eyes. “I hate this! I don’t even want to be here!”  
  
“Truth,” the tree groaned, and one of the bars on their seidr cage vanished. Not enough that they could fit through, but it had *vanished.*  
  
“What?”  
  
“Speak true and you can go free,” the tree groaned. “I know lies and you hold them in your hearts. Speak true and go free. Lie and stay and waste away.”  
  
“Oh great, a tree who likes to rhyme.” Loki aimed a kick at the trunk again, wincing as his toe complained heavily at the treatment. “I think you’re a senile hunk of lumber and ought to be chopped down.”  
  
“That,” the tree groaned, “is an opinion.”  
  
“Oh fuck you!”

* * *

Fandral sighed and sat down hard on the ground. “Great,” he muttered. “So we speak truths and we get to leave. Right.” he bit at his lip and thunked his head back against the trunk of the tree. “My favourite food in all the realms is simple bread and butter,” he said quietly.

The tree groaned. “Truth.” A bar to his left flashed and disappeared. He looked up at Loki who was still fuming and holding his toe. “Your turn, your highness,” he said bitterly. “You got us into this.”

Loki turned his glare on him, but Fandral just ignored it. He knew how a trap like this worked. The bars would disappear, one by one, but there would be no way for them to escape until the tree deemed they’d shared their deepest heart secret.

“I’m so fucked,” he muttered.

“I won’t spill my secrets to some stupid lump of lumber that thinks itself sentient!” Loki spat, and Fandral just sighed again.

If Loki wouldn’t participate then he would do it.

“I like to read Vanir poetry from before the war,” he murmured, and ignored Loki’s shocked look.

“Truth.” Another bar gone.

“I wasn’t stolen,” he swallowed. “My parents traded me as a thieves debt.”

“Truth.” And another.

“M-my favourite colour is forest green.” Another.

“Truth.” The tree’s eyes focused on him then and the tree groaned. “No more thief. Prince-Thief will speak his truths.”

* * *

Loki sighed and let himself fall into a cross-legged position on the ground. “Stupid, bossy tree,” he said, and wiped his eyes. He tried to think of some easy truths. Something that wouldn’t be too bad to share.  
  
“My favorite food is candied walnuts.”  
  
“Truth,” the tree groaned, and a bar vanished. Not a _useful_  bar, of course. That would be too easy.  
  
“Sometimes I go into the library just to hide from everyone else,” he muttered, picking at a loose thread on his trousers and avoiding Fandral’s gaze. “Sometimes I hide there so Thor can’t find me and ask me to go adventuring with him.”  
  
“Truths both,” the tree grumbled, and two bars vanished, which Loki had to admit was generous since both had really been the same truth, just expanded.  
  
“I’m a trickster. Literally,” he said, deciding that everyone would say they already knew he liked his tricks.  
  
“Truth,” the tree groaned, and another useless bar vanished. Loki looked around at the patchwork of holes, none of them large enough for them to crawl through. It had to be big truths, didn’t it? Had to be something that they didn’t want to share. Of course.  
  
“I hate the color blue,” he muttered, but the bar the vanished was just as useless as the last. He sighed. “I didn’t steal Heimdall’s sword.” He waited but the tree didn’t say anything and Loki shut his eyes and dropped his shoulders. Damn it. “But I did steal Gungnir.”  
  
“Truth,” the tree groaned, and another bar vanished.

* * *

Fandral stared at Loki, could feel his mouth had dropped open and didn’t care.

“You… _you_ stole Gungnir?” he manages to wheeze out. “What… Loki, _why_?”

Loki doesn’t answer him though, just keeps his eyes screwed shut and Fandral sighs.

“I…” he licked at his lips and sighed. “I bribe girls at the tavern with jewels, trinkets and seidr to alter their memories a little to maintain my reputation,” he mumbled. “I hate sleeping with them.”

“Truth,” the tree groaned and another bar flashed and disappeared, this time, one that sat between two others that have vanished. Loki spotted this and moved to duck through it.

“Loki! Wait!” Fandral reached out to grab his tunic, but he was a fraction too late. Loki touched the gap and was thrown back, groaning, against the tree. “It’s a truth trap,” Fandral said quietly. “I know these. It… it feeds off the truths we share. The deeper in your heart the secret lives, the weaker it gets… this,” he waved a hand at their cage, “has barely weakened at all.”

“Fuck,” Loki muttered.

“I kissed you once when you were asleep and we were on a hunting trip on some Midgardian continent,” Fandral blurts out, and the tree’s groaned “ _Truth_ ” is almost lost beneath the yelled “ _WHAT_ ” from Loki. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and ducked his eyes. “But you looked… so perfect asleep next to me.”

* * *

He hated this. He _hated_ this! 

  
He hits his hands against the tree, ignoring Fandral telling him to stop, ignoring his broken knuckles as he feels the tears on his cheeks. His stupid heart is already broken. He can’t lose Fandral as a friend too!  
  
Part of him whispers that _friends_ don’t kiss their friends when they’re asleep, or snuggle up to them at night, but it doesn’t matter. Fandral loves _Sif,_  not Loki. He’d _said!_  
  
“I lied about the tavern having only one room left. I wanted us to share.”  
  
“Truth.”  
  
“What?” Fandral squawked. “Why?”  
  
“I was awake.” Loki wiped furiously at his tears. “When we were in the caves and you were... were cuddling me. I was awake but I pretended to be asleep. In the tavern too.”  
  
“Truth,” the tree groaned.  
  
Loki kicked the trunk. “Let is out, you _jerk!_ We’ve told enough!”

He kicked the tree. “I hate Sif!” he snarled. “I hate her!”  
  
“That’s a lie,” the tree groaned, and Loki sobbed.  
  
“I want to hate her.”  
  
“Truth.”

* * *

“You- you _want_ to hate her?” Fandral asked but Loki won’t answer. He sighed and fidgeted, before swallowing hard.

If Loki could admit to that…

Then surely he could admit a little more too.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Loki, don’t hate me.” Because he knows as soon as he admits his next truths Loki will hate him, hate who he really is and he will have lost the only reason he has to be close to him.

“I-- I don’t love Sif as anything more than a sister,” he admitted quietly. “I lied.”

“Truth,” the tree agreed.

“I--” he hesitated, and licked at his lips. “I wanted to kiss you in the tavern. More than I wanted my heart to beat again, I wanted to kiss you while I thought you were asleep beside me.”

“Truth.”

“I do love someone, more than _anything_ or _anyone_ in the entire Universe, someone on Asgard,” he breathed, and stared at the ground.

“Truth,” the tree groaned again.

* * *

“Y-you lied?” Loki asked, staring at him. “But _why?”_ And Fandral had wanted to _kiss_ him?

He _wanted_ to think it might be him. He wanted it to _be_ him. But… but… Fandral had said it was _Sif._

“I… I hate it when you hang on girls in the feasting halls,” he said, rubbing his hand up and down his arm nervously. This was so _stupid._

“Truth,” the tree groaned.

“A-and I don’t know what you mean, when you wink at me. If you’re flirting or if you’re only teasing.”

“Truth.”

“But I know what I wish you meant…” He sank his teeth into his bottom lip and pressed his fingers together nervously.

 

* * *

Fandral closed his eyes and grit his teeth.

“W-when I flirt with you… I mean every single word,” he admitted.

“Truth.”

He didn’t dare look at Loki, not now.

“I-I-I only…” he swallowed. “I only ever think about you… when I think of my future with someone.”

“Truth,” the tree groaned loudly, and Fandral watched as more bars flickered and vanished.

“Close,” he said quietly. “Loki, we’re nearly out. Can you feel it weakening? I think… I think one more.”

He stood up and cleared his throat. Tried to speak and nothing happened. Fandral swallowed again, and shut his eyes.

“Okay,” he breathed, and opened his mouth to speak but Loki beat him to it.

 

* * *

“I love you,” he breathed.

“Truth,” the tree groaned, and Loki felt all the color drain out of his face.

Oh gods, he had said that out loud. He had _said_ that. He had--

The golden bars flickered and disappeared, and Loki bolted.

* * *

_I love you_.

“Loki,” he said, blinking stupidly at the place where he’d been just a moment ago. “You.”

He took a step forward, and then another and another until he was running, yelling out for Loki to _stop_ and _‘JUST FUCKING WAIT YOU DRAMATIC SHIT!’_

He skidded around a tree and came to a halt when he crashed into Thor.

Thor, who was holding a screaming and struggling Loki in his arms.

Thor, who was grinning madly at the pair of them.

“Holy fuck,” Fandral panted, and bent over double to catch his breath. “Everyone fucking knows. Of-of course you do.”

“In our defence,” Thor says loudly over Loki’s protesting. “You are not exactly subtle.”

Fandral wheezed a laugh and stepped forward. “That’s mine,” he said and pointed at Loki. “I want it.”

Thor grinned at him and gave Loki a little shake to quieten him down. “What’s the password?” Thor rumbled, and Fandral had to do his best to pretend he couldn’t hear the almost silent footsteps gathering around them.

“I love you too, Loki. I have since the first time Thor introduced you as ‘my stabby little brother’.”

* * *

Loki shook his head. “Thor, let go of me, you fucking oatcake!”

His brother nodded and, like the asshole he was, shoved him at Fandral. Loki shrieked and summoned one of his seidr daggers from his sleeve to stab his stupid brother with.

“Loki Odinson, don’t you dare.” Loki sagged at the sound of his mother’s voice and let the dagger disappear. He felt Fandral’s arms curl around him and ducked his head. His fingers tangled in the thief’s tunic without his consent.

“You’re not lying this time?” he whispered. “You mean it?”

* * *

Fandral decided that words were stupid.

Words were slow, and could - very clearly - be misinterpreted.

So instead, he tipped Loki’s head up till he was looking at him, and kissed him instead - thoroughly - and when Loki tried to pull away from it, he growled and pulled him back, tangling one hand in his hair and refusing to let him go.

He did eventually, when Thor cleared his throat and the giggling from behind the trees was too loud to ignore. Fandral had to shuffle awkwardly and pray the shadows were hiding his lower half.

“I love you,” he whispered to Loki and thumped their foreheads together. “And I always, _always_ will.” He kissed him again, chastely this time, and sighed. “Come with me to Idunn’s Festival, Lo. L-let me,” he paused and bit his lip for a moment. “Let me braid your hair?”

* * *

That… that was…

“You…” His fingers curled in Fandral’s hair. He loved him. Fandral loved _him._

“You better,” he hissed, and pulled Fandral forward to kiss him again. And when Thor started chuckling, he kicked backward at his brother’s knee and smiled into Fandral’s lips at Thor’s cursing.

He pulled back at looked into his thief’s bright, beautiful eyes. “You love me,” he said, grinning. “You love me, and we’re going to the festival together.”

“Truth,” Fandral whispered, and Loki kissed him again.

* * *

 

**THE END!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that for this little fluff-fest!  
> If you love DashingFrost fics, and think we're alright authors (wink-wink) we've been busy little bees this year already, and our DashingFrost backlog of completed fics is expanding!  
> Some short and fluffy, others so big we broke google docs :D  
> Thanks for all the support and hopefully see you all again soon  
> <3  
> Trips & Talky xx


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